Calling Time_Book 1_The Razer Series

by K A Sands

  “Fuck it, I’m headed off.” Ryder grabbed my arm, trying not to fall from his stool as he moved. “Taylor’s gonna have my balls in a vice if I wake her up. No more for me.”

  “Aw...pussy whipped, are we?”

  Ryder glared at me, amusement dancing in his eyes when he answered. “Uh-huh, you’d know all about that, prick.”

  He finally steadied his feet and grabbed at his junk, the obscene gesture looking hilarious on him. I full on cracked up, almost toppling off my stool.

  “Seriously, call her!”

  “Night Ryder...” I snickered thinking about the ever popular and clever car from the 80’s. The joke was old, no point repeating it.

  I dismissed my best friend with a wave of my hand then pivoted back to the bar. I could do with another half hour, so I could walk straight enough to find home. “You got any coffee brewing, Rick?” I asked hopefully.

  “Black?”

  I bobbed my head thankfully at him as he walked to the other end of the bar.

  Rubbing at the tender spot on my chest, thoughts went back to Stella like they usually did, and I wondered, not for the first time, how on God’s green earth we ended up the way we did. I understood her grievance with my father, but to hold a grudge that long, to keep me accountable for his actions all these years? It baffled me. She hated me so vehemently, detested me, I couldn’t get my head around it. She must have loathed me. To stick a six-inch blade into my chest with no remorse? That’s not just hate, that’s more. Disgust, contempt...what? The woman had messed with my head more than I’d realised. I had to get over this shit.

  I scrubbed my hand across my jaw and sighed as a black cup of coffee was plonked down in front of me.

  “Your phone’s ringing, mate.” Rick pointed to my mobile sitting on the bar and sure enough the screen was lit up with Ryder’s name. I groaned and tipped my head in thanks while picking up.

  “Hey, bonehead...what did you forget?”

  “Dude, you can thank me later.”

  Then...nothing.

  Nothing except the dial tone, crazy fucker had hung up. I felt movement to my left, someone sitting on the stool Ryder had recently vacated and I cringed, hoping it wasn’t one of the regulars wanting to natter. I’m a nice guy, have the time of day for most folks but tonight I wanted to wallow over my coffee for a bit before I hauled my arse home. I watched Rick’s face light up as he checked out whoever had sat down.

  The subtle, sweet, flowery smell of familiarity, registered a second later. A smell that warmed my skin and excited me.

  Bloody horny old git. Sober the fuck up!

  Gathering myself together as much as I could, I swivelled on the stool and turned to the lovely Laura. She was beautiful. Her long, silky, chestnut hair framed that sweetheart face of hers to perfection. I was ogling, and I didn’t give a toss, I could have sat and simply watched her for hours. She was staring back in amusement, her eyes crinkled at the corners and a small grin tugging on those lips I’d dreamt of a million times and more.

  What was it about this woman?

  With a lazy smirk and a likely leer, I drawled out a pathetic ‘hi.’

  The apple of her cheeks flushed pink - a blush, I think. I loved that a single word from me could do that to her. Christ, imagine the colour if I was to whisper the dirty things in her ear that ran rampant around my head all too often.

  “I heard you need a ride?”

  Did I ever? Stop!

  She tilted her head, eyeing me up and down, assessing how she was going to wrestle me out of the bar.

  “Guilty as charged.” I put my hands up in surrender.

  “Taylor called, asked if I’d take your drunk arse home.”

  Leaning in closer, I mumbled, “home, huh?”

  She nudged my forgotten coffee closer to me. “Drink up, Romeo. It’s late.”

  I did as I was told. “Yes ma’am.”

  It wasn’t meant in a derogatory manner and her smile showed she took no offence. I quickly downed the bitter black liquid, trying to remember if the tab had been paid or not. I’d worry about it tomorrow, not like I’d be skipping town. I dumped the cup down on the bar and slid off the stool, planting my feet onto the sticky floor. I shifted my arm to the side, showing the way to the front of the bar.

  “After you...”

  Laura sidled up next to me, putting her hand on my forearm. “You need help?”

  The serious tone to her voice alerted me to the fact I may have looked worse for wear, it endeared me that she cared. Cared enough to come get me, cared enough to ask if I was okay. I bloody liked that she cared enough. Had been a long time since any woman had.

  I pushed my luck. “You gonna help if I do?”

  Laura smacked my arm playfully as she moved away. “Give over, you’re fine. Let’s go.”

  We left the bar together, being a gentleman, I pushed the door open for her to go through first. As soon as the fresh air hit, my head spun, and I braced myself against the brick wall. Yip, a lot more drunk than I figured and ouch...my chest ached fiercely. I remembered I’d had no painkillers, not when I had been planning on getting shit faced.

  Mission accomplished.

  Laura stepped in front of me, clearly assessing the situation. “Well, you’re not getting in my car, that’s for sure.”

  Looking up and down the near deserted street, she pulled her lip between her teeth and suddenly became all kinds of cute. There was a tinge of nerves to her I didn’t like. When I reached out, she side-stepped away, and I couldn’t quite catch her. To mask the move, not show the sting of rejection, I leaned over and braced my hands on my knees.

  “Gimme five minutes. I’ll be right as rain, yeah?”

  Concentrating on her feet shuffling in front of me, those purple pixie boots truly fascinating. I chuckled to myself - ridiculous idiot. “I can walk. You don’t need to stay, Laura. I’m a big boy.”

  “Pissed as a fart, more like.”

  I returned upright and leaned my head back against the wall, content to watch her until my world righted itself again. Funny thing was, I’d no idea how long it would take. This woman standing in front of me had shoved it right off its axis, had me teetering in all directions.

  Laura reached out and tugged at my wrist. “Come on...” Pulling me, she headed off in the opposite direction of my house. “Let’s walk down to mine, it’s closer. The fresh air will sober you up.”

  My two steps behind her wouldn’t do so I hurried to catch up and walk next to her, not making too much fanfare over the way she was gripping my wrist. If I wriggled, she might be tempted to let go and I didn’t want her to. Her cold fingers against my heated pulse was intoxicating.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologised without slurring my words.

  She shook her head at me, the scent of whatever product she used in her hair surrounding me as we walked. Almonds, I think.

  “I’ll spot you a coffee at mine, phone you a cab.”

  Laura let go, like she only just remembered she was hauling me along the road. Her pace picked up and even though I was still half-drunk, I detected a hint of unease as she marched toward her house. I wisely kept my mouth shut, happy enough to be in her company, no matter the circumstances. Hell, I wasn’t even embarrassed she’d had to come save my arse like a naughty drunken teenager.

  We got to her house in no time at all, a chill had set in the night air and I realised the thin sweater I was wearing did nothing to keep me warm. I rubbed at my arms as we walked up the path noting her house was lit up like a mardi gras carnival with what seemed like every single overhead light on in the place. It wasn’t that dim glow from lamps and candles, no - like a lighthouse, a beacon for the ships. You couldn’t miss it for miles. A pang of regret hit my stomach as understanding dawned on me - she didn’t even feel safe in her own house. I stopped at the bottom of her steps and touched her elbow before she reached for the front door.

  “Hey.” I motioned back down the dark street we’d walked. “I can call a cab no
w, no need for coffee.” I tried to smile at her to convey it was no big deal. She shrugged it off.

  “No, it’s all right. Come on in, it’s getting cold. No sense in waiting outside.”

  There was no will to argue. I didn’t even have the will to go home. I was confused as to what I wanted, what I needed, the alcohol catching up. I didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable around me, yet I craved Laura’s presence. I surmised a coffee wouldn’t hurt, if I kept my distance, not made a move. I rubbed my hand over my chest, the motion surely becoming a habit, feeling nervous. I’d been in her house before, this felt different, like we were crossing a line that wouldn’t be easy to step back from. Her frosty demeanour didn’t hide her trepidation and I wondered if she felt it too. I’d known for a while things were going this way between us and I was hell bent on not letting our pasts define us.

  Somehow though, it was easier said than done. Stella had done a number on me, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. I was savvy enough to understand not all women were like she was, not all women operated in the same fashion my ex-wife did. Taking a chance would not be easy but my heart thumped for Laura, it was useless to ignore it. Laura had said yes, we would do this. Nothing had come of those words since they were uttered, maybe it was time to push the boat, start the ball rolling. My head cleared enough to make the decision I prayed was the right one.

  Laura pushed the door open, ushering me inside with an unsure smile. “You want coffee or hot chocolate?”

  She glanced back at me as she made her way to the kitchen. Naturally, I followed, taking in the sensual sway of her hips as she moved, the attraction not lost on me.

  “You have whipped cream?” I asked cheekily as she pulled mugs from an overhead cupboard. My eyes fixated on the taut line of her back and I shamelessly ogled her fine arse as my eyes swept the length of her. I wanted this woman, no two ways about it.

  Making a move into the kitchen, I figured whatever came next, rejection or not, I could blame it on the alcohol.

  Cheap shot? Yeah...

  I had to know if this simmering attraction went both ways, if it was mutual, or if it was a figment of my imagination. If my lustful fancies were unreturned, whatever we had together was pointless. I wasn’t subjecting myself to another passionless relationship. It was now or never.

  Having been stuck in my head for too long, I looked up to find Laura watching me, hands on her hips, looking...hell, I couldn’t read her. Did I go to her? Did I kiss her? Did I apologise again? Did I bow out as gracefully as I possibly could?

  “Lucca...” she said, relaxing her stance. Her voice rumbled low, almost a whisper.

  My heart jumped, my hopes soared. Fuck it! I crossed the kitchen and crowded her against the wooden cabinets, my hands grasping the counter either side of her hips, my body flush against hers, screaming for release. She didn’t scamper away, rather she softened against me. I couldn’t ignore this any longer. It could be Laura was mine.

  “Kiss me again,” she breathed.

  Stretching a hand to her hip, I gripped tight, needing an anchor. I leant down, lips skimming across hers. Soft and slow, not wanting to rush. As much as I wanted to devour her, I also wanted her to have no regrets, no doubts. To be sure she knew this wasn’t an in-the-moment passionate gesture. She had to see what this meant, to see the beginning of a beautiful and fulfilling story.

  Us, this could be us.

  Laura didn’t move, the kiss tentative. She let me take control. I pushed against her, my lips pressed with more fervour, my erection digging into her stomach. Then suddenly she was kissing me back. Her eager tongue pushed into my mouth and she groaned; a gruff noise that had my fingers digging into her flesh with more intent. My head swam, not from the booze, no - from the euphoria that Laura was most definitely on my wavelength. The way she reciprocated was testament enough for me. I wrapped my free hand around a fistful of her hair and kissed with more passion so there was no mistaking how much I wanted her. Right here, right now would never be enough. If it was all I was allowed, I would take it and hang on to it for a lifetime and more.

  Laura wrenched away from me, ragged breaths escaping her mouth, short puffs of air ghosting across my cheek. She tipped her head forward and rested against the column of my throat where I relaxed my chin atop her head. Pushing my arms around her waist, I held her closer to me.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She gave a snort. “More than.”

  It was all the reaction I needed as she wound herself around me and squeezed her arms tighter.

  Laura

  Lucca smelled so wholesome, even the faint smell of beer didn’t put me off. The sweetness on his lips tasted decadent, full of unspoken promises and untold stories. I tried to gauge how drunk he was, I’d never been a good judge of those things, my guess would be way off. Drunk or not, I wanted Lucca Rinaldi. I wasn’t above taking advantage of his diminished senses right now. Was that wrong of me? Most definitely. Did I care? Not a snowballs chance in hell. There was chemistry between us and instead of filling me with abject terror, it filled me with optimism and warmth. The stomach pangs I felt whenever Marc had touched me erred on the side of nauseating, yet standing here enveloped by Lucca, butterflies beat furious wings in my belly - a good kind, sensations that mattered. I liked the strength he exuded, the ease at which he put me.

  And his mouth was wicked, I could nibble those lips of his forever and a day and still not tire.

  As great as they felt, standing in my kitchen with Lucca also threw me for a loss. I wasn’t sure how to get from here to there. I wasn’t even sure where there was, I knew I wanted to be with Lucca. In the absolute moment. I hadn’t flirted or tried to seduce anyone in years, didn’t know how. With Marc things had fallen into place, no need to overthink it.

  I was only half aware of where I stood with this man and what he wanted. Messy divorce, bitch of an ex. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if he just wanted a bit of hanky panky, a woman different from his wife, and then to be on his way. I couldn’t blame him for that. It wasn’t what he’d said last week but really - who was kidding who? I hadn’t seen him all week and was even more confused than ever.

  Still, whatever this was, I wasn’t shying away from it. I wanted the connection, for however long it lasted. I’d take what he offered and bow out gracefully when he’d had enough. I was frantic to get over this hurdle first.

  I pushed Lucca away from me slightly, he stepped back refusing to let go. Gazing up into his eyes I saw a spark of lust he must surely see mirrored in my own. His mussed hair fell over his eyes and I reached up to sweep it away, lingering a moment, fingers stroking down the side of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch, an ‘mmmm’ coming from him.

  “Stay?” I made up my mind, I took the leap. If I didn’t ask, I wasn’t going to get now. “Stay,” I said again as his eyes snapped open. His whole face relaxed as he accepted the invitation. “How drunk are you?” My conscience wasn’t letting me away with it.

  “Not so bad now.” He tightened his hold on me. “You want to take advantage, huh?”

  “No. I don’t want you to forget.”

  He bent down and kissed me chastely, the touch not enough. “I won’t,” he promised number three. He smiled that mega-watt smile of his, the one that poked out the dimples at the corners of his mouth, those seldom seen. “And no regrets, Laura. Works both ways, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” My stomach was doing cartwheels in excitement.

  I toed off my boots and moved out of Lucca’s embrace, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hall. No more time for second guessing, I was taking what I wanted.

  I thumped the light switches on the way by, plunging the house into semi-darkness. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the light from above bathed us in a muted glow. Three steps up and I was tugged backwards, Lucca spinning me around. With him being on the stair below we stood at eye level and I could no longer deny the way he was regarding me. Lucca Rinaldi was going to devour m
e, make me feel like a woman should. Of that there was no doubt.

  “I need to kiss you again,” he moaned, moving his head closer to mine.

  Before I knew it, he’d twirled me sideways and thumped me against the stairway wall. His lips crushed against mine and I swear he took all my breath away. My chest heaved against his as he consumed me, big hands holding me steady as he plundered my mouth with his tongue, over and over. I could barely contain the lust zinging through my body. The deep kiss ended far too soon, his mouth never stopped as he nipped and nibbled down my neck, sucking at the crook where my collar bone was exposed through my loose scarf. Goose bumps shivered across every inch of my skin. I clenched my thighs together, the ache almost painful.

  His hands moved and travelled the length of my upper body, skimming down the front of me, grazing taut nipples, sweeping across my shivering stomach, resting gently on my hips. I moaned loud for the sensation felt so wonderful. So right. Even over a layer of clothes.

  His fingers inched up the fabric of my loose gypsy skirt until it bunched at my hips and then he pushed further into me, his hands finding the skin of my thighs. The heat from his palms scorched as they moved behind. I twined my arms around his neck, my fingers tugging at the short hair at his nape. His eyes snapped to mine as his fingers pressed into the bottom of my backside.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” It sounded like a command, his voice gruff, no please. I had no compulsion to care and did as he asked, my bare legs shifting up, my sock clad feet crossed behind his thighs.

  As he heaved me further up the wall he wiggled into position and pressed his jean clad erection against the material of my panties, his hips rubbing against me. The sensation drove me crazy and I knocked my head back against the wall, closing my eyes, cursing the person who had invented underwear. Who needed clothes, never mind cock blocking pieces of material?